


it's a piece of cake

by ednae



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, established polythag, gakumitsu focused!, they are so stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: Mitsuki has a foolproof plan for confessing to Gaku. Although, maybe he should have dumbass-proofed it instead.





	it's a piece of cake

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: Gaku You Are So Fucking Stupid
> 
> this was a commission, so i'm really excited to share this! it's horrible so please enjoy uwu

“Are… you sure you wanna take it this far?” Yamato peers down at the cake with all the skepticism of a flat earther in a geography class. “Obviously I’m not one to talk here, but it seems a little mean.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mitsuki says with a shake of his head. His hands are clenched tightly around a clear plastic bag, squeezing out the last of the bright red icing in fancy lettering. “This is a reserve in case he really doesn’t get it. A backup plan.”

 _“Oh,_ but Mitsuki,” Nagi groans, leaning his head on Mitsuki’s shoulder. “I have to agree with Yamato on this one.”

“That’s new,” Yamato mumbles under his breath.

When he finishes piping the final letter, he sets the bag on the counter and takes a step back into Nagi to admire his work. “I really don’t see the problem here. They’re just my honest feelings.”

The three of them look down at the cake, focusing on the bright letters which read _Please Date Me You Fucking Moron._

“Aren’t you trying to ask him out?” Yamato leans in so that his face is almost squished against Mitsuki’s. “This looks more like an insult.”

Mitsuki’s grunt sounds more like a whine, and his face heats up when he realizes. “Haven’t I been flirting with him for the past _three months,_ Yamato-san? You were there. You know what I’ve been through.”

Yamato turns his head just enough that he’s able to peck a quick kiss on Mitsuki’s flushed cheek. “Yeah, we know.”

“Do you need another hug?” Nagi offers, already wrapping his hands around Mitsuki’s waist. “It must be difficult to try to seduce someone with such a thick skull.”

Mitsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like you’re both any better.”

“But you don’t have to seduce us anymore.” Nagi nuzzles into the crook of Mitsuki’s neck and breathes out, tickling his ear and sending a little shiver down his spine. Even after months of Nagi’s hopeless romanticism, it always feels like the first time—the butterflies fluttering in his chest, the hitch of his breath, the jelly his bones turn into whenever Nagi starts on his bullshit.

“You’re not quite as stupid as Yaotome,” Mitsuki says in a husky, low voice. He’s far too focused on standing upright as Nagi peppers little kisses up his neck and nibbles on his ear to care that he sounds like he’s melting. He _is_ melting.

“I take offense to that,” Yamato retorts, taking up the other side to mimic Nagi, as if they’re intentionally ganging up on Mitsuki to make him die with all this sudden affection.

“Okay, _Nagi_ isn’t as stupid as Yaotome.”

Nagi giggles. _“Correct.”_

“He’s so unfair.” Mitsuki lolls his head back and lets himself fall into Nagi’s and Yamato’s waiting arms, miraculously keeping him propped up. “How dare he be so pretty. If he weren’t so damn attractive I would have given up by now, because he’s seriously the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

“Look, Nagi, I finally have someone beat,” Yamato jokes as he rubs soft circles into Mitsuki’s lower back with his thumb.

“It took us both four months to convince you that we love you, Yamato.” Nagi shakes his head. “Half of that time we were already dating.”

“And yet Mitsu still thinks Yaotome’s dumber.”

“That’s because he is,” Mitsuki grumbles, puffing out his cheeks. “If he doesn’t get it I’m going to shove this cake in his face and call it a day. Do you think that’ll work?”

“Why did you decide on the cake?” Nagi asks seriously, finally pausing in his pursuit to kill Mitsuki with love. “Wouldn’t it simply be easier to tell him you find him attractive?”

Mitsuki huffs. “I have. Seven times. And I’ve asked him on sixteen dates. And we kissed last month in a parking lot. And I told him I love him three times.”

“Didn’t you come home crying the night you kissed him?” Yamato asks.

 _“Oh,_ Yamato, you know Mitsuki is sensitive,” Nagi scolds lightly.

“Well yeah, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

Mitsuki jabs Yamato with his elbow, and he doubles over with a loud grunt. “Shut up, old man.”

“Okay, I deserved that,” he wheezes.

Mitsuki turns back to Nagi, pointedly ignoring everything Yamato might have to say. “The plan is to invite him over, confess to him… _again,_ and if he still doesn’t understand, I’ll shove this cake in his face. How does it sound?”

Nagi grimaces. “It… makes me grateful that you did not try such things when you asked us to date you.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Nagi clears his throat. “It’s a good plan.”

“Perfect, okay.” Mitsuki nods and steels himself. “Are you two gonna stick around for the _seventeenth_ date, or are you gonna skedaddle and make out in one of our rooms or something?”

Yamato scratches the back of his neck and glances warily at the cake on the counter. “Depends—do you need us to be there for you as emotional support when Yaotome doesn’t understand that you’re confessing to him?”

“I’ll be fine,” Mitsuki assures them. “Probably.”

Nagi puts a hand to his face and sighs. “Maybe we should stay, if only to keep Yaotome-shi’s handsome face cake-free.”

“I thought you liked the idea!” Mitsuki stomps his foot and huffs loudly.

Nagi looks down at him like he’s being strangled.

“We’ll stay,” Yamato says firmly, and that’s that. Mitsuki doesn’t really care either way, although he can’t help but wonder if having his two boyfriends around might get in the way of acquiring yet another boyfriend. He hopes that even if Gaku is an idiot, he won’t be affected by Yamato and Nagi being there with them.

Besides, with any luck, Gaku will finally take the hint and they’ll all be able to go on more dates together in the future. This is just a trial run, or something.

...This is a mess.

A knock on the front door startles Mitsuki out of his thoughts, and he has a moment of panic before forcing it down and reminding himself that this isn’t even his first date with Gaku. They’ve done this dance many, many, many, many, _many_ times before, even if Gaku doesn’t have the brains to realize that Mitsuki’s into him.

“Is that him?” Yamato asks, peeking out of the kitchen at the door.

“Yeah, so don’t do anything dumb,” Mitsuki warns.

 _“Oh!_ We would never do anything dumb!” Nagi insists.

Mitsuki doesn’t know how to respond to that except with a weak, strangled noise that forces its way out of his throat.

So he doesn’t say anything more because really, what is there to say, and he pushes past them to open the front door.

And there’s Gaku, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory. His hair is messy in the way that a model in a magazine would have messy hair, and he’s wearing a sleek leather jacket, jeans that hug his ass, and a tight shirt that shows off his abs.

Oh, he’s really not fair at all.

Mitsuki swallows thickly. “Yaotome.”

“Izumi.”

“Thanks for coming.” It feels a little hard to breathe, and his heart is pounding in his chest, but he reminds himself that he’s been doing this for _three full months_ and he can keep himself together long enough to make this a successful date. “Did you bring a movie?”

Gaku produces a movie case from thin air and shakes it slightly in front of him. “It’s a samurai movie that I haven’t seen in a while. I thought you might like it, since it’s full of action.”

On their seventh date, they established a movie night, switching off every time to determine who would pick the movie. It’s easier than trying to come up with unique and special locations for them to go to, only for Mitsuki’s advances to be totally ignored.

“Chiba Shizuo?” Nagi asks, appearing from around the doorway. There are lights in his eyes as he drags Yamato along behind him, and Mitsuki can see the tortured expression on his face as Nagi gushes over the popular actor.

Gaku blinks, looks between Nagi and Yamato, then at Mitsuki, then at the case in his hand. “Yeah, it looks like he’s the lead.”

 _“Fantastic!”_ Nagi exclaims, plucking the movie from Gaku’s hand and rushing to the living room to set it up.

Yamato runs a hand down his face, carefully avoiding his glasses. “Yo, Yaotome. We’re joining you today. Hope you don’t mind.” And with that, he takes off after Nagi, grumbling something under his breath and leaving Mitsuki alone with Gaku.

“They’re joining us,” Mitsuki repeats, waving a hand in their general direction.

“I heard.” Gaku stares after them, blinking a couple more times before turning back to Mitsuki. “You’re dating them, right?”

An unexpected question, but a perfect segue. “Yeah.”

“Both of them?”

“Yep.”

“At the same time?”

“Uh-huh.”

Gaku squints. “Together?”

“Um, yeah. It’s definitely a thing.” A thing he wants to get Gaku in on, but that chance seems to be slipping away.

“Huh.” A pause. “Okay.”

Mitsuki fights the urge to reach up and throttle him, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’d have to stand on his toes to reach.

He steps out of the way so Gaku can come in, and he bounces on his toes as he watches him take off his boots. “You know,” he says finally, following along as Gaku steps into the dorm proper and heads toward the living room, “this kind of thing is called polyamory. It’s when more than two people are in a relationship together.”

Not that he hasn’t explained this before, but Gaku’s skull is impossibly thick.

Gaku nods. “You’ve said this before.”

“Right.” He has to phrase it delicately. But oh, that cake in the kitchen is calling his name. It would be so easy to just… “But it can be more than three people too. Like, say, _four_ people. And it doesn’t always have to be a mutual thing, either. Sometimes it looks like a bunch of branches on a tree.”

Gaku turns to face him. “What are you going on about, Izumi? Is this some sorta sex ed lesson?”

It feels like a slap to the face, but really Mitsuki should have expected this kind of reaction. “No, it’s—never mind.”

He’ll try again later.

They step into the living room where Nagi and Yamato are already seated on the sofa, watching the disaster that is Mitsuki trying to talk to Gaku.

Yamato’s mouth is curled into a frown, and Nagi has taken to burying his head in his hands. “Oi, Yaotome,” Yamato calls, waving for him to sit down. “Come watch your shitty movie.”

“Shitty?” Gaku echoes, the barest hint of a growl in his voice.

Mitsuki chuckles nervously and leads Gaku to the couch, shooting a glare in Yamato’s direction. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a salty bastard. Your movie’s gonna be great.”

“I hope you’ll like it,” Gaku says earnestly, and when he smiles at Mitsuki the brilliance blinds him. Mitsuki’s heart stops in his chest and the world seems to fall away except for Japan’s Number One Most Desired Embrace.

Mitsuki swallows and wills reality to return to him. “Y–yeah…”

“Mitsu looks pretty good today, right?” Yamato says as Gaku sits, nudging him in the side and winking conspicuously. “Super manly and cool.”

“You’re right,” Gaku says, glancing Mitsuki over once but lingering his gaze on his face. “He always looks cool though. You’re both really lucky to be dating him.”

Heat prickles at his face and creeps up his neck and Mitsuki feels like shoving the cake in his face now would be a better alternative than… whatever the hell Yamato’s trying to do. “You’re pretty cool yourself, Yaotome.”

Gaku chuckles. “I’m glad you think so.”

Nagi leans over, crossing his arms on top of Yamato’s shoulder. “Mitsuki is also very friendly! And sweet and caring and cute and…” He holds up his fingers as he counts. “Have you recognized these traits in him yet, Yaotome-shi?”

For some reason, it sounds like a threat, but Mitsuki can’t properly react to it over the abject embarrassment he’s being subjected to right now. “Nagi!”

Gaku’s chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, one that shakes Mitsuki to his bone. “I have recognized that, yeah. He’s really a great guy.”

“Have you ever considered dating him, then?” Yamato asks, his gaze cool and calculating behind his glasses.

Mitsuki dies on the spot.

“Y–Yamato-san, you can’t just _say_ things like that!” he blurts out, lunging over Gaku’s lap with every intention of squeezing the life out of him.

Yamato just laughs and leans further into Nagi, just barely out of Mitsuki’s reach. “We just wanted to help out, you know?”

“No! I can do this myself!”

“Uh…” Gaku interrupts, and suddenly Mitsuki realizes he’s splayed across his lap. “I’m not really following. What’s going on?”

 _“Jesus Christ,”_ Nagi says, pressing his knuckles to his mouth to keep him from saying more. But his eyes are wide as he stares at Gaku, a desperate plea within them that somehow manages to fall on deaf ears despite being so painfully obvious.

Mitsuki scrambles upright and tugs on Gaku’s shoulder until they’re facing each other. “Yaotome—jeez, I can’t believe I have to say this again…”

Gaku is innocently oblivious. It’s infuriating. “Say what again?”

Mitsuki takes a deep breath to steady himself and release some of the blind rage building up inside him. “I have been flirting with you for the past three months. Will you _please_ consider my feelings and either accept or reject my confession?”

“Your confession…?” Gaku repeats, his eyebrows drawing together as he thinks. Then they shoot up, wrinkling his forehead, and he blinks rapidly, as if he’s seeing the sun for the first time. “Wait, are you—?”

“I can’t deal with this,” Yamato groans, draping himself dramatically over Nagi, who nods in agreement and collapses into the sofa as well.

“I’m confessing. To you. For the fourth time now, actually.” Because that last little tidbit is extremely necessary. “I like you.”

Gaku’s eyebrows drop back into a normal position on his face. “You’re a good friend too, Izumi—”

“Not as a friend!” Mitsuki quickly interjects. “I love you! Like, romantically!”

Gaku stares hard at him, and Mitsuki does his best not to look away under such an intense gaze.

“Huh?”

Yamato groans, sliding off the couch and onto the floor so that he’s crumpled in a messy heap. “Nagi, just go get that damn cake. We’re ending this now.”

“What? What cake?” Gaku asks, whipping around to see Nagi pushing himself up.

“Mitsuki baked you a cake,” Nagi explains as he bounds into the kitchen with the utmost urgency. “You will love it!”

“Oh, well.” Gaku turns back to Mitsuki and the sincerity in his eyes only fuels Mitsuki’s killing instinct. “Thanks, Izumi. I appreciate your hard work.”

Mitsuki places his head in his hands. “Yaotome, I love you but please shut up.”

A low hum lets Mitsuki know that Nagi’s returned from the kitchen, and when he looks up he sees him carefully balancing the white cake in his hands, watching it intently so that he doesn’t drop it.

“I feel like it’s my birthday,” Gaku muses.

“Please let me do the honors,” Yamato begs even though he’s still on the floor and not in a position to shove a cake in Gaku’s face.

“Oh, but Mitsuki is the one having trouble with love,” Nagi says. “And he baked the cake.”

“Give me the cake, Nagi,” Mitsuki demands, holding out grabby hands. Nagi dutifully plops the tray in them and steps back, standing at an angle so he can properly record what’s about to happen so he can show everyone else later.

“What does the writing say?” Gaku asks, leaning forward to try and make it out.

Mitsuki doesn’t give him the chance, though. “It says—”

With the full force of his strength, he launches the cake into Gaku’s face.

“Please go out with me, you fucking moron!”

The cake falls to the floor.

Yamato dives to catch it, but he’s too late. Red and white icing explode onto the rug and splatter all over the couch and Yamato’s face. Nagi doubles over in deep belly laughs.

Gaku blinks, slow and arduous with cake weighing down his lashes. He opens his mouth to speak; a chunk of icing falls off his cheek into his lap. “Like… dating?”

“Yes!” Mitsuki exclaims. “Like dating! Like me and Nagi and that old man down there!” He jabs his finger toward Yamato, who’s given up on life and has laid his head on the remnants of the cake like a pillow. It’s not like it’s possible to get _more_ cake on him, after all.

Gaku reaches up and wipes away some of the cake, inspecting it for a moment before sticking it in his mouth. After he swallows, he looks back at Mitsuki. “It’s really good. I could never bake this well.”

“Is that supposed to be an answer…?” Nagi guesses, still hovering about five feet away from them so he doesn’t get dirty.

“Don’t pull out any cryptic shit, Yaotome.” Mitsuki shoves his finger in Gaku’s face. “I’ve been waiting three months for this. Answer me straight: will or will you not go out with me?”

Gaku doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he does Mitsuki feels like going back in the kitchen, baking another cake, and then launching that into his face, too. “If I say yes, does that make me gay?”

From below them, Yamato’s weary, war-torn voice resounds. “What the everloving _fuck_ is that supposed to mean, Yaotome.”

“It’s a serious question!” Gaku complains, wiping another chunk of cake off his face.

“Is it a yes, though?” It _better_ be, Mitsuki thinks, since they’ve already kissed and been on _sixteen_ dates. Seventeen, if he counts today, even if they haven’t even started the movie yet.

There’s a warm, mushy feeling on the side of his face, and Mitsuki snaps to attention only to realize that Gaku has smeared a huge chunk of the cake across his jaw. Mitsuki shouts wordlessly and jerks away, but Gaku ignores him. “It’s a yes. I like you too, Izumi. I just didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship.”

“Yaotome-shi is not very observant…” Nagi laments, hanging his head sadly.

“Three… months…” Mitsuki seethes under his breath.

“Yaotome, I don’t just say this to anyone,” Yamato starts, finally lifting his head out of the cake so he can properly look at Gaku. Not that it matters anyway, since his glasses are completely covered in mushy icing. “But you really are a piece of work.”

Gaku narrows his eyes. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Yes.”

Gaku stares hard down at Yamato. “I don’t think I can date you yet.” Then his face, or what’s visible of it, blanches and he backtracks. “If—if that’s okay with you, Izumi. I don’t exactly understand this whole thing.”

Mitsuki laughs a little hysterically, unable to control his emotions in this sudden turn of events. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“I don’t think Nagi and I are ready to handle another dumbass among us, anyway,” Yamato levels with a smirk. A chunk of cake falls off his glasses and onto the rug, but hey, at least he can see through them now.

“We can figure out the dynamic in time, Yaotome-shi,” Nagi assures, still refusing to come any closer. The coward, leaving them to stew in the mess while he watches from the sidelines. “For now, enjoy your time with Mitsuki.”

Gaku slowly turns his head back to Mitsuki and stares at him silently. Mitsuki looks back, not sure what to do. And then Gaku leans forward. “Are we supposed to, you know, kiss now?”

“Are we _what?”_ Mitsuki says, blinking rapidly. Gaku’s face is way too close, and Mitsuki’s only solace is that there’s so much cake on it that it’s nearly unrecognizable as Yaotome Gaku. “Kiss? You? Me?”

“That’s what happens, right?” Gaku asks. “I’ve never dated a guy before, though.”

“I didn’t know you’ve dated, period,” Yamato chuckles from below.

Mitsuki growls. “I’m gonna shove a cake in your face next, Yamato-san.”

“Might as well. Can’t get worse than it is right now,” is his only reply, laying his head back in the cake like some kind of animal. “This is my life now, I guess.”

 _“Oh,_ Yamato, you are being dramatic,” Nagi laments. Yamato follows up by chucking some cake in his general direction, only breathing out slightly heavier than usual when Nagi shrieks and leaps to the side to avoid getting hit.

“So?” Gaku says, looking at Mitsuki with intense eyes, the only part of his gorgeous face that wasn’t able to be smothered in cake.

“Well, I guess it’s okay,” Mitsuki grumbles. It’s not like they haven’t done this before, after all. “You probably taste like cake.”

“At least it’s good cake,” Gaku jokes, quirking up his mouth into a smirk.

So he bridges the gap between them and touches their lips together hesitantly—because he still can’t believe it finally worked, after all this time of trying and failing to ask him out.

And all it took was a cake to the face.

**Author's Note:**

> good thing mitsuki is morosexual honestly
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/polythagoras) where i scream about gaku being a dumbass


End file.
